Concrete Angel
by cherryem
Summary: A oneshot inspired by the song "Concrete Angel" by Martina McBride. Grimmjow-centric and rated T for his language. Reader discretion advised.


Concrete Angel

_She walks to school with the lunch she packed,  
Nobody knows what she's holdin' back…_

Grimmjow was bored. As always. Las Noches was probably the most boring place in the whole entire universe. Or at least that's what he thought. But right now he couldn't stand the boredom and decided to scope the Real World for some entertainment. And that entertainment being a certain teen named Kurosaki Ichigo. Yep, he had every intention of beating the living shit out of him.

The said Espada was standing on the sidewalk across the street from Karakura High School – a place where he knew that his target would be at this time of day.

_Wearin' the same dress she wore yesterday,  
She hides the bruises with linen and lace…_

His eyes studied the teenagers that rushed into the building to arrive in time for their classes. Really, he wanted nothing more to just barge in and tear Ichigo's head off, but he knew that people couldn't see him. He'd make a scene, or more like Ichigo would, and even though the idea of the said teen getting wheeled away in a straight jacket sounded fun, he simply just wanted to kill him.

A girl ran past him, almost too close for his comfort, her scent wafting into his sensitive nostrils. She was carrying a small metal lunchbox and wore the standard high school uniform. But something stood out about her uniform – it didn't have that freshly washed laundry detergent smell. It's not that it smelled bad, just not like everyone else's, even though some students could certainly use a shower. His eyes narrowed down on the black lunchbox and due to his sensitive hearing, he could hear the contents of the lunchbox jumping around as the girl ran late.

_The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask,  
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask…_

Grimmjow grunted as he realized that Kurosaki wasn't late for class as he hoped, instead the strawberry-haired teen was within the safety of the concrete walls. He could go back to Las Noches and come back when the kid got out of class – or sit and wait patiently like a predator waiting for its prey. The later sounded better to him, for if he showed up back in Las Noches, Aizen would have him do something foolish and unimportant, like attend a meeting and have a "tea party."

Yes, he would wait. Wait for his prey to come out of hiding. Then he'd stalk him to a suitable place and attack him, seizing his life and enjoying the Shinigami's last breath.

_Bearing the burden of a secret storm,  
Sometimes she wishes she was never born…_

When classes ended, Grimmjow's senses went into overdrive as adrenaline of excitement began coursing through his veins. Clenching his fists, he allowed his nails to dig into the palms of his hands drawing blood as every nerve of his was stretched to its limit. Yes, he was getting closer to killing the kid. He would finally serve his vengeance upon his enemy. The strongest man would survive.

As if to set the mood for the upcoming battle, the sky darkened with ominous clouds foreboding the upcoming storm. The Espada grinned, how perfect. He could almost smell Kurosaki's blood as it liquefied and melded together with rain water, cascading down the concrete streets into the sewers.

Focusing, he traced the teen's reiatsu and concentrated on following it as he awaited the strawberry-haired boy's exit from the building. He was getting close, so close he didn't pay attention to anything else around him.

_Through the wind and the rain,  
She stands hard as a stone,  
In a world that she can't rise above…_

The rain began falling from the sky like liquid bullets, pounding against his skin, impregnating his clothes with water. But he didn't care, no, his prey was near.

Lost in thought, he suddenly felt a body collide with his. "Watch where the fuck you're going!" he snarled at person. "Sorry…" said the person rather timidly. He looked down at them only to find that it was the girl from before – the one that kind of stood out from everyone. "Che…" he said as his gaze refocused on the building before him.

"Excuse me sir, but is this yours?" said the same voice again. Casting her a side glance, he noticed she was holding his zanpakutou, Pantera. "Give me that," he said threateningly as he reached out for the katana. The girl handed him his weapon and smiled softly, "it's pretty," she said.

Pantera, pretty? What the hell was wrong with this girl? The girl looked up at him with an innocent yet curious look in her eyes as the wind whipped her rain soaked hair around. "Why do you have a mask?" she asked ignoring his cold behavior. Infuriated he growled and raised his hand to strike the insolent girl but she merely turned her face away from him and looked down. The rain washing off a layer of makeup and revealing a fresh purple bruise marring her pale cheek.

Seeing the bruise, he lowered his hand back to his side. "Go away." He ordered coolly. The girl did as he told her to.

_But her dreams give her wings,  
And she flies to a place where she's loved,  
Concrete angel…_

Regaining his focus on his target his mind clouded with the thoughts of the girl realizing that she wasn't supposed to have been able to see him, nor even be able to touch him. And if that wasn't even confusing, the fact that she wasn't scared of him perplexed him even further.

He was a monster. A predator and a killer of the worst kind, driven by bloodlust. He found pleasure in taking the lives of others and watching them as they took their last breath as he had slain them with his sword. Yet she did not fear him. The look in her eyes was more sorrowful than anything else. But she was a pathetic human. He need not waste his time wondering about the useless and pathetic being.

Yet he couldn't. The air about her was different. Drenched with sorrow and pain. Her lack of fear of him left him curious about her. Growling, he decided to follow her. Kurosaki would have to wait.

_Somebody cries in the middle of the night  
The neighbors hear, but they turn out the lights…_

Grimmjow was standing outside the girl's house, the rain has let up yet it still continued to come down as night has placed its blanket over the world. He could see her through her bedroom window on the second floor.

Hands in pockets, he stood there in the light rain watching her as she sat on her window still looking at the shiny wet streets below. One of her hands rested against the cool, rain streaked glass while the other rested beside her. He couldn't tell if she was crying or if it was the rain…

Even though she was looking at the street where he was standing, she wasn't looking at him. He noticed that the girl was actually quite attractive under all those bruises that marred her pale skin. Her fair skin and light blue eyes were accentuated by her long wavy dark brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall. Her overall appearance was very much angelic-like.

However, the sorrowful and heart wrenching look in her eyes sent a pang through his own heart. He knew that look very well – the one of a trapped, beaten and broken animal.

He looked down at the concrete sidewalk he stood on, his own bottled and well hidden emotions attacking at his very core. His gaze then fell upon his missing arm. Those bastards. One day…one day they would pay for it, for everything.

A ripple erupted behind him and he knew that Ulquoirra was standing behind him. "Aizen-sama requests your presence, we'll be having a meeting. If you don't show up you'll lose your other arm…" The emerald-eyed Espada said behind him emotionlessly. Letting out a small growl, he followed Ulquoirra, as he threw one last glance at the girl. He saw her head turn around as someone walked into her room.

He wanted to know more about her. He would return as soon as he could…

_A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate,  
When morning comes it'll be too late…_

The meeting was probably the best he's ever been to. He got his arm back thanks to some human girl that Ulquoirra kidnapped under Aizen's orders. He never felt better in his life. Now he could destroy Kurosaki at his full strength!

The thoughts of annihilating the Shinigami made a sinister smile spread across his face. Then an image of sad light blue eyes flashed across his mind. Frowning, he remembered the girl.

The image of her sorrowful angelic face formed before his eyes. It haunted him. Sighing, he went to see the girl again. He had to see her again...even if from afar...

_A statue stands in a shaded place,  
An angel girl with an upturned face…_

He looked for her everywhere in Karakura Town, but the task was proven harder than it initially seemed, seeing as he never knew her name.

Walking down the street and searching for her reiatsu he walked pass a cemetery. There was a funeral going on. Casually looking at the gathered he saw a woman weeping and holding a picture of the girl he was looking for. She was dead?

Grimmjow waited for the funeral to end. Once the humans dispersed and went on to live their lives he entered the cemetery and looked down at the brand new headstone.

_A name is written on a polished rock…_

Nakamura Mitsukai

06.06.1987-10.06.2007

Rest In Peace.

So her name was Angel? His teal eyes engraved the image of the headstone into his memory. He never knew the girl, yet he couldn't help but feel another pang of sorrow penetrate his hollow heart as he realized that there was more to the bruises that marred her angelic beauty and that whoever was responsible for them was also responsible for her death…if he only would of realized this earlier…

_A broken heart that the world forgot…_


End file.
